Splintered
by emn1936
Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Splintered

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to have any rights to the characters or plots of DQMW. The following is purely for entertainment value and of no monetary value whatsoever

Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Chapter One

He sensed her approach before she spoke even a word.

xxxxxx

Shirt un-tucked and damp with sweat, he picked up another piece of wood. His hair fell in unruly waves around his face and he shoved an impatient hand through it. Setting the log onto the chopping block and lifting the axe in his hands, he split it cleanly in half. He tossed the wood onto an ever-growing pile and some distant part of his brain noted that he had split more wood that day than he could use in two months' time.

"Hello, Sully." Her voice was quiet. If she was surprised by his disheveled appearance, she gave no indication of it.

Yanking the axe from the chopping block, he shot a quick glance her way.

"What brings you out here?"

Michaela drew in a deep breath. "I want to tell you how much I appreciate what you did."

He scraped a wayward lock of hair away from his forehead and sighed. "What's that?" he grunted as he split another log in two.

"Left me free to decide," she said gratefully.

Again, his gaze flicked toward her for the briefest moment before returning to the chore at hand.

"So you must have decided." Never breaking rhythm, he raised the axe overhead and sent it slamming through yet another piece of wood with a mighty thwack.

"How do you know that?"

Sully struggled for a moment to pull the axe free of the chopping block.

"I know," he said and with a dismissive glance her way set another piece of wood into place. "You love David."

His voice was calm and almost completely devoid of emotion. But if anger had a sound, it would be the thud of his axe as it tore viciously through the block of wood.

"Yes. I'll always love him." Her voice was a wistful sigh.

Her words were like arrows striking his heart though the stoic look on his face betrayed none of the pain he felt.

"But that's the past," she continued, "and you're the present." She paused. "_We're_ the present. If you'll have me. Will you Sully?"

Though she was saying everything he had been longing to hear for weeks, her tone seemed uncertain to his ears. Flat. Nothing like the confident Michaela he had come to love. Hiding behind a curtain of hair which obscured his face, he stared hard at the chopping block for a heartbeat or two. Closing his eyes, he drew in a deep breath.

"Will I what?" His features were as stonily composed as his voice.

Michaela sighed and glanced away. "Will you marry me?" she finally asked. Her cheeks flushed and her voice was thick with the embarrassment of having to ask.

Sully let go of the axe and it fell to the ground with a muted clatter. Walking slowly toward her, he took her hands into his own. Lifting his fingers to her cheek, he brushed a gentle kiss over her lips and resting his forehead against hers, he closed his eyes.

Michaela let out a small sigh of relief and moved as if to wind her arms around his waist. His hands shot out to capture her wrists and stay her motion.

"I wanna marry you more than anythin'," he breathed. But instead of happiness, his expression was grim and the tremulous smile which had begun to curve her lips fell away to be replaced by a look of confusion.

"Sully –"

He took one step back from her and then another, and raising his hands before him in a defensive gesture, he shook his head.

"I love ya, Michaela," he told her. "But I can't promise to marry ya right now. I just… I can't…" He shook his head in frustration. "I think we'd best wait."

"But –" Now he noted that her voice was filled with emotion, colored with shock and fear, but turning away from her, he returned to the woodpile.

Selecting another piece of wood, he raised the axe high overhead and then brought it down with such violence the blade bit deeply into the chopping block as it cleaved through the wood. The force of the blow sent shockwaves of pain dancing up his arms. He welcomed the sensation as it penetrated the numbness which had otherwise engulfed him. Mechanically, he picked up another log, and then another and another, losing himself in the unrelenting pace. The burn and ache of each blow reverberated through his body, blocking out all else – even the woman standing in frozen bewilderment behind him.

He sensed her departure though she said not a word and only then did he falter.

xxxxxx

Gripping the axe handle with both hands he struggled to raise it over his head but a sudden weakness overcame him and the axe fell from his cramped fingers. Panting, he sank to the ground. Shoving trembling fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, he pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly. Just a few short weeks ago he had been sure they would be together forever and now it seemed that all of those plans had been torn asunder; splintered like the wood piled around him.

And he had no earthly idea of how to put it back together again.

TBC

A/N: Well, it's been six years since I've written anything in this fandom and probably close to two years since I've watched an episode. But I've recently begun cherry-picking my favorite episodes to watch and this story – which had been dancing around in my head since the first time I viewed "Return Engagement" – popped back into my mind. Like most fans, I loved that final scene where they reunite and spin gleefully through the field but I wanted to explore the possibilities of "what if". What if Sully hadn't been so quick as to set aside the events which transpired in the episode?

Obviously a huge chunk of the dialogue at the beginning of this story is lifted from "Return Engagement."


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Splintered (2/?)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to have any rights to the characters or plots of DQMW. The following is purely for entertainment value and of no monetary value whatsoever

Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Chapter Two

Michaela looked around the clinic and sighed. A light patient schedule that day had left her with too much time on her hands – too much time to think and worry. Two days had come and gone since she had sought out Sully. Two days since a word or look had passed between them. She glanced down at the patient chart on her desk and tried to lose herself in work. Unable to focus for more than a few seconds at a time, she abandoned the chart and rose to her feet. Pacing around the small room, she expended a little nervous energy by organizing her medical books, first alphabetically by author and then by order of subject. When she began to rearrange them again – this time in height order – she realized that her behavior was bordering on the ridiculous.

Resolutely turning away from the bookshelf, she wandered toward the window. Pushing back the curtain, she stared listlessly at the busy comings and goings of the townsfolk. A flash of movement caught her eye and her heart leapt into her throat as Wolf pranced into view. Her gaze settled hungrily on Sully as he approached a pace or two behind his companion. He looked up as he neared the clinic and their gazes met. Michaela lifted one hand in a tentative greeting and a hopeful smile curved her lips. He stared at her for a long moment and her stomach clutched on a knot of fear when she saw his shoulders rise and fall on a long sigh. He glanced over his shoulder and she wondered if he was assessing his chances of escape, but in the next moment he moved toward the clinic porch. Michaela wiped suddenly damp hands against her apron.

"Hello, Sully," she greeted as he stepped inside.

"Michaela." His voice was a quiet rumble of sound which left her with no clue as to what he was thinking or feeling. An awkward silence fell between them and she folded her hands in an effort to still their nervous fidgeting.

"I've missed you," she finally offered.

He bobbed his head in assent.

"Been busy," he grunted with a quick shrug of his shoulders. Again they were plunged into an unnatural stillness and they both cast their eyes about the room as if seeking distraction.

"Will you come for supper?" she blurted desperately.

He hesitated then dragged his gaze from his seemingly enraptured study of the wood floor.

"Usual time?"

Perhaps she was being overly sensitive but, unsure if his blunt tone was an indication of anger or just his usual forthright manner of speaking; she blinked and gave him a silent nod.

"I'll be there." And inclining his head politely, he left the building.

Michael turned again toward the window and watched as he stepped into the street. Patting his leg in a signal for Wolf to join him, he walked toward the livery. And though she silently willed him to look back, he disappeared around a corner without even a glance over his shoulder. Dispirited, she let the curtain fall back into place and returned to her desk. She made a pretense of returning to her review of her patients' charts, but in truth spent the rest of the afternoon dissecting every moment of their encounter.

Perhaps she _was_ reading too much into things, she consoled herself, though a tiny voice in her head whispered otherwise. She faced the prospect of seeing him again that evening with a combination of dread and anticipation.

xxxxxx

A knock on the door had Brian leaping from his seat. "It's Sully!" he shouted as raced across the room.

Michaela watched as Colleen and Matthew joined their brother at the door. Sully stood on the threshold surrounded by the children. Their buoyant welcome was one befitting a conquering hero and she supposed in their eyes he was just that. For David was gone and Sully remained. She knew they saw him as triumphant and believed things would simply return to the way they had been.

She prayed they were right.

As she watched Sully with the children, she waited for him to look her way. Touching a finger to her hair, she admitted privately that she had fussed with her appearance before his arrival. Her flower-sprigged blouse had an open collar leaving the long, white column of her throat bare and fragrant with the lavender water she had dabbed on her pulse points and behind her ears. The smallness of her waist was emphasized by an intricately braided belt given to her by Sully. It was a piece she treasured for she liked to imagine his big, calloused hands weaving the leather into a design so delicate and feminine. Her hair was pulled in a loose tail which lay over her breast, secured near the end with a leather cord. It was a style she often adopted for practical purposes as it tethered the waving mass of her hair without making her appear too severe to others.

But more to the point, she knew that Sully had shown an unspoken preference for that style. She had noted long ago that he seemed unable to keep his hands away from her hair when it was arranged in this fashion. In public places – seated at the café or standing in the street near the clinic – he would often reach out and unconsciously toy with the ends of her hair, fingers playfully plucking at the leather thong while they spoke. And in private… She sighed. Oh, in private, he liked to coil the thick tail of hair around his hand, using it to hold her a willing captive to his kisses.

She hoped to evoke a similar reaction this evening.

"You're right in time," she said with a shy smile. "Won't you please sit down?"

Brian grabbed Sully's hand and led him ceremoniously to the chair at one end of the table. It was obvious that the boy took great pleasure in seeing Sully take up what Brian deemed the older man's rightful place at their table and in their lives.

Michaela carried a serving bowl to the table and ladled a generous portion of beef stew onto Sully's plate.

"Would you please slice the bread?" She nodded toward the cloth-wrapped loaf near his plate and continued around, serving the children before taking her own seat at the other end of the table.

She was grateful for the children's presence. Their obvious joy and relief at having Sully back was evident in their cheerful chatter which had been missing at mealtimes of late. Sully spoke easily with them about school and work and though he seemed focused on the children, she was aware that his gaze fell on her time and again throughout the meal. By the time she served dessert she was feeling much less anxious than she had before his arrival.

"I'm glad yer back, Sully," Brian happily declared as he dug into his dessert. "I didn't like the fancy meals Ma was always tryin' to make when David was here," he confessed with a sour look on his face. "But she's gotten pretty good at makin' the stuff you like," he said around a mouth full of food.

"Brian!" Michaela exclaimed as her cheeks flamed.

"Sorry, Ma." The boy swallowed hastily. "I know. I know. I shouldn't talk with my mouth full." He was oblivious to the true reason for her exclamation. Sending her an angelic smile, he propped his chin on his fist and returned his attention to Sully.

"How come you stopped comin' to supper? Was it 'cause David was always sittin' in your chair?" he asked with a candor afforded only to the very young – or the very old. He popped the last bit of his dessert into his mouth and gave Sully an expectant look.

Sully blinked in surprise at the question while Michaela let out a barely audible groan and hid her eyes behind her fingers. Matthew cuffed his hand lightly against the back of Brian's head.

"What?" the child asked indignantly. "I was just wonderin' if – mmfff!"

Colleen's hand shot out to cover her younger brother's mouth and she and Matthew surged to their feet. Making hasty and transparent excuses about the lateness of the hour, they dragged Brian away from the table. Their whispered admonishments could be heard from behind the curtain which separated the sleeping area from the rest of the cabin.

Mortified, Michaela busied herself with cleaning up after dinner. She plunged dirty cups and utensils into a basin of soapy water. Her shoulders sagged with defeat when she heard Sully scrape his chair back and she braced herself in anticipation of his leaving. She was surprised when he appeared at her side, the rest of the dirty plates in his hands. She took them from him with a hesitant smile.

"Would you like some more coffee?" she drummed up her courage to ask. "We could take it out on the porch…"

"Sure." He reached out to put the dirty dishes into the basin and brushed against her in the process. Dropping the dishes into the soapy water with a clatter, he took a hasty step back. Retreating to the table, he grabbed his coffee.

Michaela closed her eyes and drew in a deep breath. Turning, she pasted a confident smile on her face. "Shall we?" she asked as she picked up her own coffee cup.

Sully held the door open and she preceded him out onto the porch. Following, he began to pull the door closed behind him, but feeling the coolness of the air now that the sun had set, he reached back inside to tug her shawl from a peg on the wall. He took up his seat beside her on the top step.

"Thought ya might want this." He held out the woven shawl.

"It is a little chilly," Michaela agreed. Buoyed by his show of concern, she looked up at him with an expectant and grateful smile.

He set down his coffee and draped the shawl around her shoulders. Withdrawing quickly, he picked up his cup and took a hasty gulp, wincing as the hot liquid burned his tongue. Her disappointment that he had not taken her broad hint and wrapped his arms around her instead of the shawl was evident in the drooping of her smile.

Sully began to think that it had been a bad idea to accept her invitation to supper. He looked up into the night sky and remembered all the times they had peacefully enjoyed sitting together beneath the canopy of stars. Never a talkative man, even he fidgeted uncomfortably beneath the weight of the crushing tension between them.

"Was Brian right?" Sully turned his head at the hesitant sound of her voice. "Because I never meant for you to feel unwelcome."

He shot her an incredulous look.

"Please talk to me, Sully," she implored. "We'll never get through this if we don't discuss it."

He shook his head and huffed out a bitter laugh. "You can't possibly think that I wanted t'watch the woman I love entertaining another man in my own homestead." he said disbelievingly. "This is your home, Michaela, and yer welcome to have any guests you like, but do you really think I wanted to sit here while you courted another man under the very roof I built?"

"It wasn't like that."

"It was exactly like that!" he shot back. "What else would you call it but 'courtin'?" he asked. "I remember you told me once before that David would come to your house for supper when you were courtin' in Boston. That you would talk about yer cases," he reminded her. "You told me that courtin's a time to get to know the other person. Ain't that what you were doin' with David these last weeks? All those times you took him with you on your rounds or took walks together or tried to cook a fancy meal for him? Weren't ya getting' to know him again?"

She hunched her shoulders against the weight of his bitter recriminations and lashed out defensively.

"Your presence may have been scarce of late," she noted haughtily. "But it's obvious that you were intimately familiar with my comings and goings! Were you spying on me?"

A dark look settled over his features. "You didn't make no secret 'bout the time you spent with him," he noted. "And it seems some folks liked nothin' better than t'make sure I knew where you were and who you were with all the time."

"I'm sorry." No sooner had the words flown from her mouth than she wished them back. She looked at him beseechingly. "I am _so_ sorry." She wanted to reach for him but held back, knowing instinctively that her touch would not be welcome. Drawing the shawl more tightly about her, she raised her face to the heavens.

"I wish I could make you understand," she murmured as she stared up at the star-speckled sky. "I was so confused."

"I know." He drew his feet up and hooked his heels onto the top step, resting his forehead against his updrawn knees. "I know you were confused, Michaela." His voice was muffled against his knees. "But knowing you were confused don't make me feel any better. 'Cause when you say 'confused', I hear 'in love with another man'."

She couldn't deny it, for she had already admitted that a part of her would always love David. Just as a part of Sully still loved Abagail…

"Imagine if Abagail had returned." She latched onto the comparison in the hopes of helping him understand what she had been grappling with. Dropping her gaze from the night sky, she looked toward him and was stunned by the expression on his face. His pupils were dilated and a flush of anger rode high on his cheeks.

"Don't!" he snarled. "Don't you dare speak her name in the same breath as his!"

She recoiled from the rage simmering in his voice and he immediately subsided.

"I'm sorry." He tiredly ground the heels of his hands against his eye sockets. "I didn't mean t'frighten you, Michaela," he said dully. "You don't ever gotta be afraid of me. You know that. Right?" he asked beseechingly.

She breathed out a sigh and relaxed. "I know," she said. "I was just surprised. But Sully, don't you see?" she asked, eager again to make her point. "I thought David was dead and I finally had let him go – as you did with Abagail – and made the decision to move on with my life with you and then suddenly –"

"But he wasn't dead, was he?" Sully interrupted harshly. "It's not the same thing at all. Abagail didn't choose to leave me," he said bleakly. "She fought with everythin' she had t'stay with me." He drew in a shuddering breath. "And when… and when we knew… when she knew she couldn't stay, she cried and begged me to forgive her."

He swallowed hard.

"David had a choice. Abagail didn't. And it's insultin' for you to try to compare one to the other."

"He… he wanted to spare me. He was crippled. Badly injured and he didn't want to burden me." Michaela stammered in automatic defense of the choices David had made, for she had to believe in those choices in order for any of this to make sense.

"Yes. I know," Sully said. "And I do believe that, Michaela. But a lotta time has passed since he was injured. Time enough for him to learn to walk and talk again. Time enough for him to learn a new profession..." He gave her a pointed look.

Time enough, Michaela finished silently, for David to have become a leading voice in his field. Time enough for him to have sought her out at any point in those years after he had recovered. And she wondered how she had allowed herself to ignore that fact until now.

"Now I'm the one that's sorry, Michaela," Sully said as he watched a dejected look settle over her lovely features. And for the first time since he had kissed her in the meadow, he reached out to touch her, taking her hand and threading his fingers with hers.

"I meant no offense to Abagail." Michaela sighed and, taking a chance, leaned her head against his shoulder. She felt him suck in a surprised breath before relaxing again.

"I liked David" he admitted in a conciliatory voice. "Even when I wanted t'hate him." He turned so that his cheek was resting against the crown of her head. "I understand what it's like to be crazy in love with you," he whispered against her hair.

"Oh, Sully. I do love you." Michaela raised her head from his shoulder and stared into his eyes as if willing him to believe her.

"I know, Michaela." He met her gaze steadily. "I know you do."

Pulling her hand free of his, she brushed her fingers against his cheek and lifted her face to his. Sully hesitated briefly before closing the distance between them. Their lips met in a warm and gentle caress and Michaela shifted closer, winding her arms around his neck.

Sully broke gently away from the kiss. Biting his lip, he closed his hands around her wrists, untangling himself from her embrace.

"I gotta go," he whispered. His thumbs stroked a reflexive caress over the thumping pulse points in her wrists.

"But –" Disappointment sounded in her voice.

"It's gettin' late," he said, and with a glance at the moon overhead, released her and rose to his feet.

He could see that she wanted to voice a protest and watched her bite back the words.

"Will I… will I see you tomorrow?" she asked instead as she once again drew the shawl tightly around her shoulders.

"Sure." He paused. "What time is best?" He held out a hand and assisted her to her feet.

"I only have a few appointments scheduled in the morning," she told him. "And one other late in the afternoon. Perhaps we could meet for lunch at Grace's?"

"I'll be there." He dipped his hands into his pockets. "Temperature's dropping," he noted. "You best be gettin' inside now."

He waited as she collected the empty coffee cups and returned to the house. Stopping on the threshold, she looked over her shoulder and he felt the breath catch in his throat. Bathed in a halo of light from inside the homestead, her gaze filled with a hopeful expression, he thought her more beautiful than he had ever seen her before. He wanted to stride up those few steps and snatch her into his arms. He wanted to declare his love as boldly as he had in the sweat lodge a few weeks earlier but so much had happened since then.

He wondered if they were even the same people they had been at that happy time. And he wondered what it would take to get back to that place again.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Splintered (3/?)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to have any rights to the characters or plots of DQMW. The following is purely for entertainment value and of no monetary value whatsoever

Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Chapter Three

Sully accepted a cup of coffee from Grace and took a seat at an empty table to await Michaela's arrival. Sipping his coffee, he was aware of the speculative gazes of some of the café's other patrons. Hooking one arm casually over the back of his chair, he adopted a negligent pose as he studiously ignored the exchange of nudges and whispers between Jake and Loren.

Minutes ticked by with no sign of Michaela in sight and the whispers and snickers from behind grew in volume. Sully called on all of the patience he had ever learned from Cloud Dancing and worked to keep an inscrutable expression on his face. Wolf, sensing his companion's inner disquiet, shifted closer and laid his chin on Sully's leg. Sully stroked a hand over the animal's muzzle and fondled his ears eliciting an almost humanlike sigh of contentment from the wolf.

"Horace!" Sully heard Jake call. "C'mere. Join us."

The lanky telegraph operator swerved toward the sound of the other man's voice – eager as always for any opportunity to be admitted into Jake's or Loren's company .

"Hey, Jake." He sat down across the table from the two men. "It's mighty nice of ya to invite me."

"Not at all, m'boy," Loren tutted. "Not at all."

"Say, listen," Jake said casually. "I noticed you carried a telegram over to Dr. Mike's this morning." He raised his voice enough to be sure that it would carry to Sully's table.

"Yep." Horace shot a grateful smile toward Grace and tore eagerly into the platter of fried chicken she set down in front of him. "From Boston."

"From Boston, you say?" Loren harrumphed. "Oh, dear." His voice dripped with false sympathy. "I hope it wasn't bad news."

"Probably her fiancé letting her know that he had arrived back home safely," Jake concluded gleefully. The two men shared a wicked chuckle.

"Ain't none of your business who Dr. Mike gets a telegram from," Grace snapped as she refilled their coffee cups. "Mind your own. B'sides, David couldn'ta gotten to Boston already. It's only been a few days since he left here."

"Oh, lighten up, Grace," Loren groused. "That Andrew feller left here so suddenly and no one seems to know what's goin' on. The kids ain't talkin'. And Dr. Mike has barely come out of that clinic since he left town. Maybe she's busy making arrangements and is planning on going back to Boston t'marry him," he speculated.

"Yeah," Jake chimed in. "As mayor, I need to know if I'm going to have to place an ad for a new doctor." Turning, he shot a friendly smile toward Horace. "So what's the story, Horace? You can tell us. For the good of the town."

Horace swallowed a large bite of chicken and washed it down with a gulp of lemonade. Wiping his greasy fingers on a napkin, he frowned at the other men.

"You know I can't tell you," he said. "I took an oath."

"Pah! An oath." Loren's craggy face twisted into a scowl. "What good're you then?"

"I… I'm real sorry, fellows," Horace apologized. "I can't tell you what's in it, but I can tell you it was from her ma."

"Ahhh, Elizabeth," Loren sighed in remembrance of her prior visit. "What a woman."

The two men had been carefully watching Sully during the entire exchange but seeing that he was still sprawled indolently in his chair, gave up on their efforts to needle a response from him.

Sully debated between waiting at the table or going to the clinic to check on Michaela. It was true that telegrams were often filled with bad news and he couldn't help but wonder if the content of the message from her mother was the cause for Michaela's delay.

When another few minutes passed with no sign of her, Sully began to rise from his chair, halting when the clinic door swung open and Michaela stepped outside with Mrs. Stevens. He watched as she laid a gentle hand on the old woman's arm, and though he could not hear their conversation, he knew she was dispensing advice to her patient. The admonishing wag of her finger was accompanied by the wonderfully gentle smile he adored. The two women parted and Michaela reached out to tug the clinic door closed before making her way toward the café and him.

"I'm sorry that I'm late." She slipped into the chair he pulled out for her.

"Everythin' okay?" he asked.

"Oh, yes. Mrs. Stevens loves to chat, you know." She took a breath. It's Thursday," she noted. "That means fried chicken." She looked around at the dwindling lunch crowd. "I'm so late. I do hope Grace has some left!"

As if on cue, Grace appeared with two platters piled high with food.

"Can I get ya some coffee, Dr. Mike?" she asked pleasantly.

"I'd love some iced tea if you have any, Grace."

"Coming right up."

Michaela took a dainty bite of chicken. "I will never learn how to make this as well as Grace," she lamented.

Sully ignored his meal, watching Michaela as she ate and kept up a steady stream of what appeared to him to be nervous chatter.

"Are you sure everythin's okay?" he asked again.

"Of course." She wiped her fingers on a napkin and took a sip of tea. "Why do you keep asking?

"You seem a little… wound up, that's all. Are you sure nothin's bothering you?"

She shook her head. "I'm fine, Sully."

"I heard you got a telegram from your Ma today." His flat tone dared her to deny it.

Michaela carefully chewed the bite of chicken in her mouth and swallowed.

"Yes. That's right."

He saw a slight grimace pucker her brows as she slid a quick look towards Horace.

"Don't worry," Sully said. "Horace didn't say what was in it." He leaned forward and lowered his voice.

"Is everythin' all right in Boston?" he asked with concern. "Your ma ain't sick again, is she?"

"Oh, no. No. It's nothing like that."

"Then what?"

"She was simply writing in response to the telegram I sent her about our engagement."

"The telegram you sent over a week ago?" he asked doubtfully. "She's just now gettin' around to answerin'?"

The smile she flashed at him was bright and cheerful, but in Sully's opinion rang false in the face of the lines of strain etched around her eyes.

"Are you gonna tell me or do I gotta keep pryin' it out of you bit by bit?" he demanded. "Let me guess. She ain't happy about our engagement." He shook his head in puzzlement. "I don't understand. I thought you said that she was acceptin' of our feelings when you left Boston to come back here."

"She was," Michaela said. "She is."

"Then what's the problem? She had t'know that those feelings might lead to us gettin' married."

"Does it really matter what she thinks?" Michaela asked quietly. "I don't want to spend all of our time today talking about my mother. Not when we have so many other things to discuss."

He leaned back in his chair, arms folded stubbornly across his chest and waited.

Michaela pushed her plate away and rested her hands atop the rough wood of the table. "It seems that David decided to contact his family after he left here. He was worried that I would tell my mother that he had been to see me and that his family would find out that he's alive from mine."

Sully's eyes narrowed as comprehension dawned.

"And now your ma knows that David is alive and that he was here."

She shrugged, her fingers nervously toying with the biscuit on her plate.

"And that he asked you to marry him?"

The biscuit crumbled into tiny pieces beneath her hands.

"Yes."

"She didn't write t'congratulate you on our engagement," he said slowly. "She wrote t'encourage you t'accept David's."

Michaela's silence spoke volumes.

"I'm right, aren't I?" he asked.

"Oh, Sully. What does it matter –"

"I wanna know," he insisted. "Are you gonna tell me or not?"

"Fine. Yes." She forced herself to look up at him. "But not here. Will you walk with me?"

Sully's gaze flicked over the other patrons of the café. Most seemed to be wrapped up in their own conversations and not paying any attention to their fellow diners. But though he and Michaela had kept their voices low, the sudden silence at Jake's and Loren's table alerted him to the fact that they were doing their best to eavesdrop.

"Let's go." He stood and tossed money onto the table before helping Michaela to her feet. Smiling their thanks at Grace, they set off down the street.

"Well?" he asked as they neared the edge of town. "Please. Just tell me what your ma said."

He watched as Michaela's hand brushed over the pocket of her skirt where, he guessed, the telegram was tucked.

"She believes that David and I are better suited." She spoke quickly, in a hurry to get the words out and – she hoped – to have this conversation over as quickly as possible.

"Why?"

"Oh, Sully." A trace of exasperation colored her tone for, though her mother's reasons were quite obvious, she did not wish to list them aloud. Sully, however, had no such hesitation.

"Because she sees David as a better provider?" he guessed.

She closed her eyes briefly and nodded.

"Because he's a doctor. He's educated."

She stared straight ahead and plodded forward without answering.

"You and David have a similar background," he said. "You both come from wealthy families. He's proper. He knows how t'use the right fork and how t'talk at those fancy dinner parties they have in Boston."

It seemed that Sully knew well her mother's mind for he was ticking off each of Elizabeth's arguments as if he had read the telegram.

"Yes," she whispered. "Yes."

Sully shoved his hands into his pockets and curled his fingers into tight fists.

"Expensive telegram," he noted idly. "Your ma must have really wanted to make her point for her to have spent all that money."

"So, it seems," she murmured. Stopping in the middle of the path, she braved a glance up at him. "But, Sully, does it really matter what she thinks?"

He stared at her for a long moment.

"Shouldn't it?" he asked at length. "Can you really tell me that you don't care what she thinks?"

"Of course, I care." She laid a hand on his arm. "But she hasn't approved of anything I've done since I decided to move West," she reminded him. "This is just one more thing."

"One more big thing," he grunted irritably.

Michaela cast her look around her – at the grass beneath her feet and the trees towering above her head. She watched two birds chase a squirrel down the side of a tree and drawing in a deep breath, prepared herself to ask the one question which had been haunting her since the day she had come to him with her decision.

"Are you punishing me?" she asked.

"What?" He twisted his head to look at her.

"It's just…" She bit her lip. "You told me that you wanted me to the pick the man who would make me happiest and that you would support whatever decision I made," she reminded him. "Did you mean it?"

"I did," he said gruffly. "I want you to be happy more than anythin'."

"I thought _you_ would be happy when I chose you," she said softly. "But instead you've seemed terribly unhappy." Tears brightened her eyes. "I can't help but think you're angry with me."

"I'm not angry," he murmured and closed his eyes. He scraped a hand over his bristled jaw. "I just… I guess I thought that… _hoped_ that it would be a simple decision for you. An easy one. That you would be able to just look in your heart and know right away that you belonged with me. I didn't think it would take you over a week to decide. Turns out it wasn't so simple, was it?"

She shook her head. "No," she choked.

They stared at one another for a long moment.

"Will you tell me why it was such a hard choice for you to make?" His whispered question broke the tension filled silence between them.

"I… It seemed like a huge decision – the biggest one I've ever made in my life." Her shoulders rose and fell on a helpless shrug. "You know me," she said with a teary smile. "I have to make my lists of all the good and all the bad."

He swallowed hard around the lump which had formed in his throat. "Will you tell me what was on those lists?" he asked. "What was in David's favor?"

"Sully…" She shook her head. "I don't… that's… no."

"I imagine it's pretty much the same reasons your ma had," he breathed. "He's a gentleman with a proper background and lots of education – just like you – and nothing at all like me."

She propped her hands on her hips and cocked her head to one side. "Are you trying to convince me that I made the wrong choice?"

At any other time he would have smiled at the haughty edge to her voice but not at that moment.

"No. I'm trying t'figure out why you picked me."

"Oh," she smiled at last. "That _is_ the simple part." She took two steps forward and wrapped her arms around him. Nestling her cheek against his chest, she boldly pressed her body against his.

"I told Dorothy that no one has ever made me feel the way that you do. You awaken something deep inside of me, Sully. It just feels so right to hold you and to be held by you." Keeping her arms wrapped around his waist, she tipped her head back and looked up at him with tear-bright eyes.

"I chose you because I want to feel the way I do right now in your arms every day for the rest of my life," she said. "I want to wake up each morning knowing that I have the right to touch you and to be touched by you." Equally embarrassed by and excited by the boldness of her declaration, a flush stained her cheeks and her eyes glowed. "We're just so right together."

Sully rested his cheek against the crown of her head.

"Is it enough?" he breathed against her hair. "I'm afraid."

Michaela twisted free of his embrace. "What do you mean?" Her voice was thick with trepidation.

"Twice now I've almost lost you to men who got the same background as yours," he reminded her. "Twice now you've picked me over them."

"Yes!" Frustrated, she stamped her foot against the hard packed path. "I chose you, Sully. Both times," she emphasized. "Why can't that be enough?"

"I'm flattered…"

"Flattered!" Agitation over what felt like a coming rejection had her raising her voice.

"Yes," he affirmed. "I'm honored. But I'm also scared."

"Of what?" She pleaded for him to make sense of his fears. "I love you Sully."

"I ain't ever gonna be what they are, Michaela. I ain't ever gonna be rich. I ain't ever gonna talk fancy. I wanna make you happy. I don't mind getting gussied up sometimes. I even kinda liked that opera we went to in Boston. I like learnin' new things but… Michaela, I ain't ever gonna be a doctor. I ain't ever gonna have as highfalutin' an education as you."

"I know that, Sully."

"But those things are important to ya," he stressed. "Or else you wouldn't ever looked at Dr. Burke or had to take so long to choose between me 'n David."

"But I did choose _you_," she reminded him. "I made my choice and now you're standing here second-guessing me and I don't know why!"

"I told ya! I'm afraid."

"Of what?" she pleaded. "Please, Sully. Make me understand."

"Passion can fade," he told her.

She blushed. "That's not the only reason I –"

"I'm afraid of what will happen if we get married," he said. "I'm terrified that one day you'll look at me and realize you made the wrong choice and then it'll be too late."

"I won't. I couldn't."

"I couldn't live with it, Michaela."

"You won't have to," she promised. "I will never feel that way."

"You're everythin' I want, Michaela."

"You're everything that I want too, Sully," she vowed desperately.

He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You're everythin' I want," he repeated. "But you're also everything I need," he vowed. "You're _all_ that I need. And I'm scared because I think… I think maybe you need more and maybe someday I aint' gonna be enough."

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Splintered (4/?)

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to have any rights to the characters or plots of DQMW. The following is purely for entertainment value and of no monetary value whatsoever

Summary: He pressed his face to his knees and wondered how everything could have gone so wrong, so quickly.

Chapter Four

Her last appointment of the day having run late, Michaela had sent the children home with Matthew. The clinic closed now, she sat at a table in the café, idly picking at the meal Grace had set down before her thirty minutes earlier and pretending that she wasn't anxiously glancing around hoping to see Sully.

"D'ya want me to wrap that up for you to take home, Dr. Mike?"

Michaela's head snapped up to find Grace standing nearby, a kindly smile on her face.

"Oh…" Michaela noted the lengthening shadows as day began to give way to night. "I'm so sorry, Grace. I'm holding you up," she said, seeing the otherwise empty tables in the café.

"There you are, Michaela." Both women turned to see Dorothy approaching. "I just finished cleaning up after printing tomorrow's edition of the Gazette and had a yen for somethin' sweet. Am I too late for a piece of pie, Grace?"

"Well now, I'm fresh outta pie, but I'm sure I can rustle up something."

"Wonderful!" Dorothy exclaimed as she sank into a chair next to Michaela's. "Why don't you join us, Grace –"

" – oh! It's late, I should – " Michaela shifted in her chair as if to rise, stilling when Dorothy's hand came to rest firmly on her forearm.

"Nonsense, we're going to have us a little bit of a ladies' night out, Michaela. Grace?" Dorothy raised her brows and tipped her head meaningfully toward Michaela."

"Why not! I'll be right back."

Michaela squirmed miserably, wanting nothing more than to go off and lick her wounds in private but years of well-bred manners kept her in her seat, a polite smile on her face as she listened to Dorothy chatter about Loren's latest get-rich-quick scheme.

Grace returned a few moments later bearing a tray heavily laden with a tea service and a cloth-covered plate. She set a plain white teapot in the center of the table and unloaded three mis-matched cups and saucers.

"They don't match," she said with a shrug as she set the small porcelain cups at each place, "but they're prettier than those old tin mugs."

"Tea!" Dorothy exclaimed. "What a lovely idea."

"Well," Grace murmured as she poured the tea, "if we're gonna have a ladies' night, I figured we might as well at least try 'n make it special. I brought some cookies to go with the tea." She whisked away the napkin to reveal a half dozen molasses cookies artfully arranged on the plate.

Michaela sipped her tea and nibbled on a cookie as she half-listened to her friends chatter about the various goings-on in the town. The fragrant spices and sweetness of the molasses melted on her tongue as the warmth of the tea and the companionship of her friends helped to soothe the frayed edges of her nerves.

Grace looked at Dorothy over the rim of her teacup and flicked a concerned gaze toward Michaela.

"Well, Michaela." The red-head set her cup down onto its saucer with a little clatter. "We can sit here all night gabbing away 'bout nothin', or maybe you can just tell us what's troublin' you."

Michaela blinked, startled by the sudden bluntness of the other woman's question. She glanced toward Grace as if hoping to find help there but instead found dark eyes staring back with the same directness as Dorothy.

"We can't help but notice that you've been moping around for days now, Dr. Mike." Grace laid a hand over Michaela's and gave it a gentle squeeze. Michaela stared down, a detached part of her brain noting how the dark, work-roughened skin was at direct odds with the pale, softness of her own hand. Tears prickled her eyes as she laid her other hand atop her friend's and gave it a pat.

"You've been outta sorts ever since… ever since David left," Grace pointed out.

"I think I've ruined everything." Michaela whispered so softly, her friends had to strain to hear her words.

"Is that it, Michaela?" Dorothy nibbled worriedly at her thumbnail. "D'ya think you made the wrong decision in sending David away?"

"What?" Michaela blinked in confusion. "Wrong decision…? Oh, no, Dorothy. No. That's not it at all."

"Then what is it, Dr. Mike? Is it Sully?" Grace's dark eyes flashed with concern.

"I should have listened to you, Dorothy. I waited too long to decide and now Sully… now…" Her breath hitched and she pressed the knuckles of one hand against her mouth.

"Now Sully what, Michaela? Just tell us," Dorothy urged.

"I think Sully has changed his mind about marrying me," Michaela admitted in a hoarse whisper.

"Oh pish! I don't believe that for one second," Dorothy exclaimed.

"Me either!" Grace's chin bobbed up and down in emphatic agreement with her friend. "Why, Dr. Mike, he loves you something crazy. Anyone with eyes in their heads can see it!"

"It's true," Michaela insisted. "He all but said as much."

She told them of tracking Sully down near his lean-to after sending David on his way. Of the state she had found him in – disheveled, sweaty and exhausted – standing in the midst of a small mountain of split firewood. Of how she had declared herself to him and how this time she'd been the one to ask him to marry her.

"I thought he'd be so happy," she told them. "I was terribly nervous as I walked out there, but I pictured how it would be. How he would sweep me into his arms and we'd laugh and kiss and everything would be perfect."

"And what happened instead?" Dorothy asked softly.

"He kissed me and told me he loved me but that he couldn't promise to marry me. He said he thought we should wait."

"Well," Grace exclaimed. "I'm sure he just needs a little bit of time, that's all."

"You've talked with him since then," Dorothy asserted. "What has he said?"

Michaela shrugged and picked up a piece of cookie, crumbling it between her thumb and forefinger.

"He came over for dinner the next evening," she admitted. "The evening started off promisingly enough but…" She laid a hand over her brow and shook her head as she told them about Brian's artless comments.

"Oh my Lord." Grace pressed her fingers against her mouth and shook her head. "The things that come out of that child's mouth…"

"I know." Michaela shared a weak smile with her friends as she described the look of surprise on Sully's face and Colleen's and Matthew's less than subtle efforts to stifle their younger brother. The three women chuckled at the image of young Brian being dragged from the cabin by his siblings.

"The truth is," Michaela said slowly, "Brian's words touched on a nerve."

"How so?" Dorothy wondered.

Michaela dragged a listless finger through the crumbs on her plate. "Did I tell you that Sully came to me one evening while David was still here to tell me that he would support whatever decision I made, and that what he wanted more than anything else was for me to be happy?"

Grace and Dorothy shook their heads.

"No." Dorothy forced the word past the lump lodged in her throat and met Michaela's tortured smile with a supportive nod.

"I… I was so confused by David's sudden reappearance in my life and I… it seems I took advantage of Sully's generous nature."

"Oh, I don't believe that, Dr. Mike." Grace asked softly.

"Looking back, I realize that I spent most of my time exclusively with David. He was at the homestead for dinner most nights and spent hours with me in the clinic and accompanying me on my rounds."

"We were all shocked when we learned who Andrew… David really was," Grace pointed out. "I can't imagine how upsettin' it was for you."

"Of course!" Dorothy laid a supportive hand over Michaela's. "Why, no one could fault you for taking a little time to figure things out?" she exclaimed loyally.

"Sully could," Michaela said quietly.

"But, Dr. Mike, you just said that he –"

"I know, Grace," Michaela said with a wan smile. "And I think he meant it. But Brian's comment about David sitting in Sully's chair…

"Outta the mouth of babes," Grace murmured. "Sully musta thought David was taking his place."

"Worse. He said I was courting David right there in the house Sully had built," Michaela said glumly. "And looking back, he's right."

The three women fell silent for a long moment and when Michaela spoke again, her voice was little more than a whisper.

"I hurt him," she breathed. "Even more than I knew at the time." She closed her eyes and rubbed a fretful hand over her forehead. "When I finally made my decision – when it finally became clear to me who I truly wanted to be with, I felt a profound sense of relief and joy. I foolishly believed that everything would just go back to the way it had been before David had returned." She pressed the tips of her fingers against her trembling lips. "But I was wrong. Sully is deeply wounded by how long it took me to decide and every time I try to talk with him, it seems that I just make things worse."

Haltingly, she described her attempts to make Sully understand her state of mind. She saw Grace's face contort into a sympathetic wince as she told them of Sully's angry outburst after her bungled effort by invoking Abagail's hypothetical return and noted the way Dorothy folded her lips into a grim line at the mention of her niece's name.

Michaela hurried on to describe Sully's reaction to her mother's telegram and the conversation that had followed.

"He's lost trust in me," Michaela mourned. "He's lost trust in _us._ He says he's afraid I'll eventually regret marrying him."

"Oh, nonsense," Grace declared. "Anyone the good Lord gave eyes to can see that the two of you are crazy for each other! He's just scared is all."

"Do you remember what you told me when we was sitting right here the day after you found out who Andrew really was?" Dorothy asked.

"Of course I do."

"What did you tell me about David?" Dorothy demanded.

"I… I said that I could talk to David about things that were important to me – like medicine – that I could never discuss with Sully."

Dorothy nodded. "And what did you say about Sully?"

Michaela pressed the palms of her hands against her flushed cheeks.

"I said that he knows me in a way no one else ever has. That he stirs something inside me in a way I cannot explain."

"And are those things still true?" the older woman asked.

Michaela looked up, confusion evident on her face.

"When you made your decision to send David on his way? What made you choose Sully? Was it just the desire he stirs in you?" Dorothy prodded, pressing hard, disregarding her friend's scandalized gasp.

"Miss Dorothy!" Grace exclaimed wide-eyed.

"Oh, Grace. Hush now. You're married. I been married. There's nothing Michaela can say that can shock either of us." She shifted her attention from the café owner and returned it to Michaela.

"Tell us, Michaela. Did you only choose Sully 'cause of the way he makes you feel?"

"No! Yes… I…" Michaela laid a hand over her stomach in an effort to quell the sense of butterflies fluttering wildly about. "I did choose him because of the way he makes me feel, but not just… not just in _that _way," she protested. "I picked him because he knows me better than anyone ever has. Because he knows how to comfort me, calm me when I'm upset. Because seeing him is always the brightest part of my day. Because he makes me feel safe. Makes me feel loved. Because he makes me feel strong. Because he's willing to stand at my side without always trying to do everything for me."

"And yes… because he makes me feel things I've never felt before. Here," she laid an open palm over her heart, "and deep inside me in ways I never knew I could feel or _should_ feel." She pressed a fist low against her belly. "It frightens me," she confided. "And excites me. I picked him because he makes me happy." Tears sparkled in her eyes and she clapped a hand over her mouth, astounded by the frank outpouring of emotion.

"Well, then," Grace grinned. "Why don't you tell him what you just told us?"

"I don't know," Dorothy cautioned. "I think it's gonna take more than just telling him."

"B-But…" Michaela stammered.

"I've known Sully for a number of years now," Dorothy interrupted. "He loved Abagail but losin' her changed him. Livin' with the Cheyenne changed him."

She shrugged. "He's different than he was when he first came to Colorado Springs. Oh, he was never one of those wild types that would come carousing into town from the mines or the surrounding ranches, but he was… younger. More open. He laughed more. Losing Abagail and the baby, well…"

Dorothy knuckled away a tear from the corner of her eye.

"Well, he's just different, is all I'm sayin'. He's more turned into himself. He lost that spark, that light of laughter I used to see in his eyes. But lately, with you…" She sighed and leaned back in her chair.

"He ain't ever gonna be the same man he was back then, but he's been more alive since the two of you came together than I've seen him in years. And you hurt him, Michaela. Not just his feelings, but also his pride."

"Sully's not a prideful man," Michaela protested.

"Of course he is," Grace cut in. "All men are. All women too."

"Grace is right, Michaela. He's not full of pride in a sinful way, but he's got his pride, just like any man does." Dorothy said. "Do you really believe he didn't care what others were thinking? That he didn't notice the snickering laughs? The sidelong glances and stares of other folk?"

"What are you saying, Dorothy? Are you saying that you think I'm too late? That there's no hope for us?"

"Oh, Michaela. Of course not. Grace is right about another thing. Anyone who looks at the two of you knows that you have somethin' special between ya. The way he looks at you…" Dorothy clasped her hands against her bosom and sighed. "Why it's like something from a romantic novel," she exclaimed, drawing another blush from the doctor.

"But you can't just tell him how you feel." Dorothy gave her a pointed look. "You gotta _show_ him."

"How do I do that?" Michaela asked helplessly.

"Well, I don't know. Maybe, maybe _you_ can court _him_."

Grace turned her head slowly toward the older woman, eyes wide with admiration.

"Court him?" Michaela repeated unsurely.

"Oh, my! Yes!" Grace exclaimed, excitement coloring her voice. "I agree with Miss Dorothy. Sully ain't a man of many words," she commented drily.

"No, I do enough talking for both of us," Michaela admitted in a wry voice and the three women giggled in nervous agreement.

"You're gonna have to show him how you feel about him, Michaela. You're gonna have to court him," Dorothy repeated, pressing the point home with a raised brow and a sympathetic smile.

"Court him…" Michaela mused, as a shiver of nervous anticipation rippled down her spine. "Fine." She straightened her spine determinedly. "Do either of you ladies have any suggestions for how I should go about doing that?"

Dorothy and Grace exchanged an excited glance.

"Well, maybe you could…" Dorothy lowered her voice and the three friends whispered and planned as the sun slid behind the mountain peaks.

TBC


End file.
